Without
by ficdirectory
Summary: Part 15 of the Paris series.  Hotch gets news from Emily that he expected, but never wanted.  Written for the Back to Basics Spring Challenge on CCOAC.


Hotch steps outside and it is raining. It's fitting, considering the state of things with his team. The state of things with Emily. He steps deftly, but not enough, and slogs through a puddle, soaking his leather shoes. He smells worms and upturned earth. It reminds him of childhood, and it feels appropriate somehow.

It hasn't been that long since he found Emily on the jet by herself, confessing to having a bad day. If he were JJ, he might ask what one of her bad days looked like. If he were Reid, he might offer evidence that she would eventually recover from the sadness. If he were Morgan, he would ask what he could do. But he is not any of his coworkers, he is only himself, and at times like this, he feels woefully inadequate.

Emily seems all right, to the untrained eye, but, of course, his eye is not untrained. He sees the faraway look in her eyes. The sadness around her mouth. The way she jokes with Morgan and all of them - a defense mechanism to be sure they know she is okay - even though it's clear she isn't.

It is spring and there is a change in the air. It will shake them all, he knows.

When she comes to him later that evening, he is glad she cannot see his bare feet beneath the desk. It's unprofessional, but he doesn't have a spare pair. They're not on a case, for once. Today has been an office day, strictly.

"May I come in?" she asks, barely pausing in the doorway before taking a char across from his desk.

He doesn't look up. Doesn't speak. Maybe if he doesn't acknowledge her, she will be less likely to tell him the thing he knows he doesn't want to hear.

"Hotch, I'm sorry…but I can't do this job anymore," she says, her voice low, soft and matter-of-fact.

He continues scanning the file on his desk. Doesn't glance up until he is sure he can without betraying the emotion he is feeling. She has been a vital part of this team for five years. They lost her once. Could they stand it to lose her again?

Finally - slowly - he looks up. He knows better than to try to talk her out of it. That would be cruel. She's at least giving him the benefit of coming to him, unlike Jason. Unlike Elle. He already knows how hard this is for her. He isn't about to make it harder.

"I'm sorry coming back was so difficult for you. Maybe seven months wasn't long enough…" he hedges.

"Seven _years_ wouldn't have been long enough…and yet seven months was torture in and of itself. I just…can't justify catching other people's torturers…being that hypocrite who won't let the victims have what I had… My monster can't haunt me anymore…theirs are all still out there. I can't trick them out of surrendering a weapon on good conscience. And I can't stand behind letting them kill theirs, either. I've always been a black and white person and now? All I see is gray…"

Hotch listens. In a way, he understands. She had Doyle. He had The Reaper. He beat Haley's killer to death with his own hands. Doyle died, even though, as she says, Emily was never the one to pull the trigger. He wonders how it might feel if The Reaper were still out there, and he doesn't have to wonder very long. He remembers the months of looking over his shoulder after he was stabbed. Of feeling like every phone call was going to bring bad news. Even now, he has nightmares. Even now - two years later - Jack is still having them. He has it on good authority that even the members of his team have had them regarding Haley's death. He sees, with a sudden clarity, how easily Emily could have gone rogue like their former teammate Elle. For some reason, though, she has held fast to the oath, and her belief in her team, even though the job has grown too much for her to bear.

In the end, all he can do is nod. In the end, all he can do is stand, and reach out to shake her hand.

"We'll miss you," he says, the carpet feeling strange and rough under his feet.

She presses her lips together. "I'll keep in touch," she promises, but there is regret in her eyes. He knows she is just being kind.

The Emily Prentiss he knows doesn't go halfway on anything. Even if she thinks this has changed her, she is still the same determined woman who walked into his office in the fall of 2006, with no one the wiser about who she was or where she came from. She hadn't given up, and, more than that, she had made certain that the team could not do without her. When she traveled with Jason and Reid, she made her skill set obvious and did her job thoroughly. Wherever she ended up, they would be lucky to have her. He tells her as much.

"Thank you," she says, and sends him a smile that does not reach her eyes.

That evening, when he returns home, the rain has stopped. There is no rainbow in the sky. Only darkness. He walks to the door, his shoes in hand, and lets himself inside. His apartment is quiet. Jack is here, asleep already. Jessica is flipping channels on the television. He locks the door behind himself and checks it twice. He forces himself not to do a walk-through of his own residence to be sure it's free of danger, and in this moment, he knows intrinsically, what it is like to be Emily Prentiss. Except, for her, this feeling of protectiveness - of self-preservation and always being on alert - it never fades.

Tomorrow, Emily will be in the office, but there will come a day, when she won't be. There will be a hole no one else can fill.

His team will go on, as they always have. But they will not be the same.


End file.
